It's All Fun and Games
by AislingK
Summary: Tony and Tim...a boring stakeout...shenanigans and consequences ensue. Warning: Contains corporal punishment.


**Title**: It's All Fun and Games…

**Disclaimer**: The characters belong to Donald Bellisario, and I hope he won't mind that I've borrowed them for awhile. The story is not connected to any particular episode or storyline from NCIS.

**Warning**: This story contains scenes involving **corporal punishment**. If that's not your thing, it would be best if you didn't read it, or at least that you refrain from telling me about it.

* * *

Tim McGee willed himself to focus on the front door of the convenience store across the street. He was tired of being cooped up in this loft with Tony, tired of watching endless customers through binoculars or on the surveillance video that fed into their computers from the store's security cameras. For the past three days he and Tony had been alternating shifts in the empty loft with Gibbs and Ziva, and so far they had seen no evidence of the suspects who supposedly used the store as a cover for their activities. It was mind-numbing work that he wasn't sure was going to pay off.

Still, at least he was making an effort. Tony, on the other hand, had stopped taking the assignment seriously midway through the second day. He spent less and less time with the binoculars, and when Tim was at the window Tony rarely watched the computer surveillance, explaining that they already knew that the suspects weren't in the store, so it was a waste of his time to watch people buying Tic Tacs and beef jerky. The only time Tony would sit at the computer was if he happened to catch a particularly attractive woman entering the store while he was on window duty, and then he would forcibly push McGee out of his chair in order to follow her movements inside on the video feed.

At the moment, though, the store was devoid of female customers, and Tony was prowling around the large empty space, kicking at the wooden beams in the middle of the floor.

"I'm SO bored," Tony whined.

"I'm bored too, Tony." Tim replied. "But we haven't got a choice. We're stuck here till Gibbs and Ziva show up at noon, so we might as well do our jobs in the meantime."

"It's a Wednesday morning, McGee. Bad guys don't get together to plan crimes on Wednesday mornings."

"Is that your professional opinion?"

Tony sighed dramatically. He sprinted over to a beam and jumped high, slapping his hand against the wood.

"Do you think I could hit the ceiling if I got a really good running start?" Tony asked eagerly.

"No." Tim replied flatly, knowing that the now trendy loft condo was a converted warehouse, and the ceilings were easily 14 feet high.

"Spoilsport," Tony sulked. He wandered over to the desk. Tim thought that maybe Tony would finally take his turn at the video monitor, but instead he saw his partner pick up a blank dvd from the cylindrical stack next to the computer.

"Hey, check this out!"

Tim turned to see Tony gleefully spinning the disc on his index finger.

"That's great, Tony," Tim said drily. It still boggled him that Tony could be such a good field agent and yet such a child at the same time.

"I bet this would make a great Frisbee!" Tony proposed.

"Put it back."

"Yes, I think this would be very aerodynamic," Tony continued, eyeing the disc from its side.

"Tony, that's agency property. We can't play games with it," Tim admonished.

"Jesus, McGeek, it's not a freakin' missile detector – you can buy them at Staples. Plus there's like 500 discs in a pack – no one's going to care if I toss one around." With that Tony grabbed a small stack of the dvd's and stepped back several paces.

"I need you to catch," Tony instructed. Tim ignored him and continued watching out the window. A moment later he was hit in the back of the head with a flying disc.

"Ouch!" Tim exclaimed, even though it hadn't really hurt very much. "Stop that."

"Not until you play with me." Another disc smacked into his neck.

"That's it, Tony!" Tim put down his binoculars and grabbed a disc off the pile. He flung it towards the other agent, and they both watched as it sailed way off to the left, missing Tony by feet. It hit the wall and clattered to the floor.

"You throw like a girl, McGee! Not that I'm surprised." Tony taunted.

Tim picked up another disc and focused harder this time before throwing the makeshift Frisbee. This time it soared on target towards Tony, who just barely reacted in time to avoid a collision with his face.

"Nice!" Tony sounded pleased with McGee's participation in the antics, even if he was being used as a target. Tony sent the disc flying back to Tim, this time in a more sporting manner. Tim concentrated and managed to catch it; even though he didn't approve of the game, it seemed vitally important not to embarrass himself in front of Tony. They tossed it back and forth a few times, but soon Tony got bored with that activity and wanted something more exciting. He ordered Tim to get them each a stack of the discs, and Tim reluctantly complied. Then he began concocting a convoluted set of rules that reminded Tim distinctly of Calvin-ball in the old Calvin and Hobbes cartoons. Tim couldn't really follow the instructions, but he absorbed the fact that they were each essentially goalkeepers at opposite sides of the loft, and that discs needed to be thrown simultaneously, and somehow points would be assigned, based on how many discs he caught, or maybe how many landed between the beams, he wasn't really sure. In any case he was pretty sure that at the end of it Tony would have declared himself the winner and Tim would be left cleaning up the mess.

"OK, discs ready, one…two…three…GO!" Tony shouted, and Tim hurled his disc blindly in Tony's approximate direction as one whizzed by his head.

"Ten points for me!" Tony cried, grabbing the next disc off the pile he'd placed near his feet.

The action continued for a few rounds, with Tim occasionally throwing something reasonably straight and earning a few of Tony's arbitrary points. For some reason he was determined to do well at this, despite the fact that he knew Tony's scoring was completely random. With his next try, Tim put all his determination into aiming, and so was disappointed when it cruised wildly to the side. But his disappointment quickly turned into horror when the disc was caught in midair, not by Tony, but by Gibbs, who now stood grimly in the doorway.

Everything seemed to freeze, and Tim looked desperately at Tony, who gave him a guilty half-grin in response.

"Over here. Now." Gibbs voice was low and Tim rushed to obey. Tony meandered over, and Tim wasn't sure if Tony was trying to delay the inevitable, or if he really didn't get how much trouble they were in.

Gibbs glared silently at them through narrowed eyes for several moments before Ziva arrived carrying a large paper bag. She scanned the floor of the loft which was strewn with computer discs.

"Was there an explosion?" she asked.

Without taking his eyes off the male agents, Gibbs suggested to Ziva that she go do some scouting around the perimeter of the store.

Ziva looked confused but could clearly sense that this wasn't a scene she wanted to be a part of. "Will Tony and McGee need their lunch?" she asked.

"I suspect that they'll be hungry later, since they've just volunteered to do a second shift. Why don't you just leave it and I'll meet you outside when I'm finished up here."

Ziva looked at each of her partners with a perplexed expression, then placed the paper bag down by the wall and quietly closed the door behind her. Tim couldn't help but wish that he was escaping with her. He stared at the floor and waited for his impending doom.

Finally Gibbs spoke. "Pick them up!" he ordered sharply.

Tim scurried around the loft, trying to remember everywhere a disc had landed. He saw that Tony was also collecting the flung items, but at a much more leisurely pace. When they returned to face Gibbs, Tony held out 6 discs to match the 13 that Tim had retrieved.

"Is that all of them?"

"I think so…uh, I mean, sure, yes, that's all." Tim looked pleadingly at Tony for confirmation of this statement. Tony shrugged and gave him an "I don't know" look in return.

"You'll replace these out of your own pockets," Gibbs stated.

"Oh, come on now – they're not even scratched." Tony complained.

"Do you want to tell that to Director Sheppard when we can't view an hour of surveillance footage because of a damaged dvd?" Gibbs snapped.

"I guess not." Tony muttered contritely.

"These are all blank?" Gibbs asked sharply.

"Yes, Boss." Tim rushed to answer. "They were straight out of the package."

Gibbs glowered at McGee, then walked over to the desk and dumped the nineteen discs in the trash can. Then he returned to face his agents.

"Hold out your hand, Tony."

Tony held out his hand loosely, looking expectantly at Gibbs as though he anticipated being given a prize. When Gibbs reached down to unbuckle his belt, Tony's face registered what was about to happen and he pulled his hand behind his back.

"Whoa! What are you doing!?"

"I'm reminding you that this is a field operation, not a playground. It seems that you might need some incentive to focus better on your next shift."

"I'm incentivized, really!" Tony's earlier relaxed demeanor was gone and he sounded a little bit panicked. "And what about McGee?"

Tim wasn't happy that Tony was dragging him into this, but he'd been wondering the same thing.

"His turn will come. I'm dealing with you first because I'm assuming this activity was your idea." Gibbs folded the belt in half and then wrapped one end around his closed fist, leaving only about eight inches of looped leather hanging freely. "Your _hand_, Tony." Gibbs commanded again.

Tony made some show of starting to move his arm, but he was clearly trying to avoid actually getting his hand into position.

"DiNozzo, if you make me hold your wrist in place I'll strap both your hands," Gibbs threatened.

Reluctantly Tony presented his flat palm for Gibbs to deal with. Tim watched Gibbs raise his arm and then bring the folded belt down with a sharp _crack_ on Tony's hand. He heard Tony suck in his breath, and decided that he shouldn't be a witness to Tony's punishment. He stared at the computer monitors on the desk, trying to focus on the surveillance feed, and wishing that there was a way to close his ears without covering them tightly like a child. Despite his efforts to shut it off, Tim's mathematical brain instinctively kept count of the strokes being doled out to his partner – two…three… Tony let out a cry of pain after the fourth stroke, and then again for the final two lashes that landed on his open palm. Tim was concentrating hard on the video image of a dog that someone had tied up outside the store, and didn't register at first that Tony's punishment was over.

"McGee!" Gibbs barked.

Tim snapped to attention and turned back to face his boss. Tony had his hand squished tightly under the opposite armpit in a vain attempt to squeeze the pain away.

"Arms at your sides, DiNozzo." Gibbs directed. Tony gingerly removed his hand from its protective hiding place and forced his arms down.

"All right, McGee. Tony may have suggested this method of passing the time, but you were clearly a willing participant. I expect better of you, and you'll remember that next time."

"Yes, Boss," Tim answered sheepishly.

"Hold out your hand."

"Which one?" Tim asked earnestly.

"Whichever one you expect to use less, McGee," Gibbs growled.

"Uh, right…OK," Tim stammered, realizing the inanity of his question. Wanting to redeem his dignity, he offered out his right hand with what he hoped seemed like an air of bravery.

Gibbs held the belt above Tim's hand, and Tim winced in anticipation of what was about to happen to him. But he was unprepared for the pain that came with the first lash. Tim felt like the belt had sliced his hand open, and he pulled his arm back instinctively, his fingers curling into his wounded palm. He looked at Gibbs with wide and panicked eyes, unsure of what reaction to expect.

Gibbs didn't say anything right away, but waited a moment for his agent to recover from the initial shock. Then he said calmly, "We're not done yet, Tim." Tim nodded, and brought his hand back into position. It was smarting terribly, and the skin felt like it was tightening toward the center of his palm as though it could close the invisible gash. He stretched his fingers out flat and concentrated on keeping it steady for the strokes that were still to come.

Gibbs rained the five remaining blows down in quick succession. The punishment was swift but harsh, and there was no time between lashes for the stinging to abate before the next one landed. His hand was burning with pain and Tim felt the tears brimming in his eyes, but he bit the insides of his cheeks to keep from crying. He would be damned if Tony would see him cry. But when the sixth stroke fell, an anguished sob burst from his lips. Tim's breath came in gasps as he tried to regain his composure while Gibbs threaded his belt back into place.

"Now, do the two of you suppose that you can stay focused on your jobs for the whole shift, or do I need to get Ziva up here to supervise you?"

"No, Boss. We're good." Tony replied hastily. Tim nodded his assent, unable to speak. He wanted to apologize to his boss, but he didn't trust himself to be able to get the words out.

"Then get your asses back to work." Gibbs snapped. Tim skulked over to the computer and for once Tony took up his place by the window without complaint.

The door closed and Tim looked over his shoulder to be sure that Gibbs had really left. Seeing that he had, Tim glanced at Tony, who was now at least pretending to concentrate on the pedestrian traffic outside. The smarting in his hand had mostly subsided but the throbbing remained. Tim knew it was going to hurt to use that hand for quite some time. Despite this, he found himself starting to smile. Certainly he hadn't enjoyed being strapped, but he was ridiculously pleased by the realization that he'd been punished _with_ Tony – they'd acted like a couple of unruly schoolboys who'd been caught by the principal. He'd never really misbehaved like that when he was a kid, and certainly he hadn't hung around with kids like Tony who did. He'd never admit it to Tony, but Tim felt almost proud that he'd finally gone through this rite of passage.

"What have you got to be so happy about, Probie?" Tony broke into Tim's thoughts.

"Uh, nothing. I was just thinking that Ziva must be pretty excited that she got out of her shift. You know how much she hates stakeouts."

"Yeah, well she's in good company." Tony scowled.

Tim nodded in sympathetic agreement and turned back to his computer. He watched Tony out of the corner of his eye to be sure that his partner was back to ignoring him before he allowed himself to grin once again.


End file.
